


Exploration

by tastewithouttalent



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Blow Jobs, Exploration, First Kiss, First Time, Hand Jobs, Inline with canon, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Inexperience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 10:35:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1185254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Killua’s heart is pounding rapid-fire against his ribs, he can feel it thrumming like bird wings in his chest, and all his skin is tingling like he’s been shocked and there’s fear rising with the adrenaline, Illumi’s voice saying run although Killua doesn’t know what he’s meant to be running from." Gon and Killua experimenting during the Heaven's Arena arc.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exploration

Gon doesn’t just  _sit_  on his overlarge bed. He flings himself on it, face-first, like it’s some long-lost friend he is just being reunited with. Killua tried it, once, but he hit his nose on a mattress that grew suddenly harder than it had seemed and felt like he might have bruised his knees and didn’t make a second attempt. Gon always comes up laughing, though, like he does today, rolling over onto his back with his arms thrown wide. Even with both arms spread to their full extension there’s more than enough space for Killua to climb next to him without initiating physical contact.

It seems...safer, that way. Killua’s not quite sure why the idea of touching Gon makes his skin feel like it fits a little too tightly but it does, so even though he kind of  _wants_  to press his fingers against Gon’s wrist or bump his knee with the other boy’s he doesn’t, keeps himself a little ways away so he doesn’t knock over the balance between them.

It’s easier to hold himself back when he knows Gon will entirely ignore the intervening space, of course. Killua has no sooner got his weight onto the bed than Gon rolls back towards him, half-tackles him down into the mattress, and Killua lands sideways under Gon’s weight and it twists his wrist painfully under him but he’s laughing and twisting, his odd new self-consciousness evaporating under the familiar habits of play-fighting. Killua’s faster but Gon is stronger, so Killua wiggles free for only a moment before Gon’s fingers close around his wrist like a shackle and he knows he won’t be able to break free. That still leaves him both feet and another hand, though, and even though his assassin-trained reflexes can’t come into play without actually hurting Gon he’s fast enough that he can get an elbow into Gon’s side and get his knee up between them to hold the other somewhat at bay, and when he gets his fingers under Gon’s shirt the other boy shrieks in laughter at the tickling.

Killua makes the mistake, then, of confusing Gon’s wiggling for incapacitation. It’s been a long time since he made such an obvious error in judgment, but Gon’s breath is blowing warm on his face and he can feel the way the other boy is squirming under him and it’s  _distracting_ , it pulls away the layer of instinctive calculation that is always overlaying his thoughts, and as Killua leans back to try to seek it out again Gon’s other hand snaps out to close around his free wrist. Gon hasn’t even stopped giggling, he still looks like he’s playing, and when he twists and shoves Killua down under him there’s a flash of panic that burns through Killua’s blood, so hot that Killua nearly kicks at Gon in blind need to get  _free_.

He is still fighting it back, telling himself  _this is Gon he is my friend he won’t hurt me_ , when Gon’s shin pins his ankle to the bed and the other boy’s foot settles on his other calf to hold him in place.

“I think you let me win, Killua!” Gon is burbling, still panting from the last round of laughter, and his eyes are clear gold and Killua has to shut his eyes for a moment so Gon won’t see the fading traces of murderous desperation he only barely fought back. He still pulls a smile up onto his face, and when he opens his eyes they are clear of anything but innocence.

“I wouldn’t  _let_  you win anything, idiot.”

That just makes Gon smile brighter. “So I won for real!”

Killua opens his mouth to respond but he doesn’t have anything coherent to say. When he smiles this time it breaks onto his face in spite of his best efforts, strangely unforced and natural, and it takes the control over his eyes with it so they go soft and amused as well. Gon is laughing, Killua can feel the delight rippling through his body and the total lack of any attempt to control it, and his face is going hot although he’s not quite sure  _why_. It feels a little like all his blood is going superheated and rising to the surface of his skin just under his clothes, blistering hot in contact with Gon’s ankle and foot and wrist, and his smile is fading as Gon’s laughter trickles to a stop and the other’s eyes focus so Killua can feel Gon’s gaze like a touch. Killua’s heart is pounding rapid-fire against his ribs, he can feel it thrumming like bird wings in his chest, and all his skin is tingling like he’s been shocked and there’s fear rising with the adrenaline, Illumi’s voice saying  _run_  although Killua doesn’t know what he’s meant to be running from. Then Gon leans down, and his mouth hits Killua’s, and when Killua’s head says  _oh_  it’s in his own voice.

Gon’s mouth is hot even compared to the weird flush that’s burning all along Killua’s skin, and Killua can feel his teeth hard under the softness of the other boy’s lips, and this shouldn’t be any different than touching any body parts but it  _is_ , Killua’s heart is skittering irregular and his breath is stuck in his throat and he doesn’t know what to  _do._  Gon pulls back and Killua’s eyes drop to his mouth, to the way his lips are patterned with moisture and pinker than usual, and there’s a soft sound between them that Killua doesn’t realize comes from his throat until Gon smiles at him. Then Gon blinks, and Killua can see awareness of their position click into place in his brain, and he moves his hand and his ankle and drops to the bed beside Killua instead of on top of him. Killua turns his head to look at Gon, his head still stunningly empty of any thoughts at all. His limbs all feel limp, like all his bones have dissolved away; how can Gon be holding himself up and breathing and  _moving_  when the world feels like it’s stalled in its motion?

“Sorry Killua,” Gon says, his eyes still bright and face totally free of the flush that Killua can feel burning under his own pale skin. “Did I startle you?”

Killua’s throat works around the sound before he can manage to croak, “Yes.”

“Ah, sorry,” Gon says again, bringing a hand to ruffle through his dark hair. He looks sincerely apologetic, slightly self-conscious, but still with no trace of the panicked adrenaline Killua can feel pounding through his own body. “I should have warned you first, huh?”

Killua makes another shocked sound, not sure if he intends it as affirmation or negation, and when Gon grins bright Killua moves himself forward, his body shifting on its own and still as fluid as if his bones really have vanished, like his impulse is flowing through liquid rather than blood and skin and muscle, and crushes his mouth hard against that smile. Killua’s lower lip smashes against his teeth and starts to throb with the promise of a swelling bruise and Gon starts to rock backward in surprise, and Killua’s hands come viciously desperate against Gon’s neck and head to hold the other boy’s mouth against his. There’s a moment with tension humming tight through Killua’s skin, the repressed assassin growling loud, and he is suddenly horribly unsure of what he will do to Gon if the other boy pulls away from him.

Then Gon goes gentle, relaxes into the aggression in Killua’s hold and fits his lips more comfortably around the hard want in Killua’s, and the threat of violence evaporates into heat and a whine in the back of Killua’s throat. Gon laughs and it pulls his mouth open, and Killua imitates him a beat later, so when he breathes in he breathes warm and wet straight from Gon’s body. His thoughts are drifting apart, going hazy with the heat that feels like his whole body is on fire, and when there’s a tentative intrusion past his lips it takes him a minute to realize that’s Gon’s  _tongue_  in his mouth, he didn’t even know you could  _do_  that, and then there’s another flailing moment of panicked desire and his own tongue is against Gon’s, tracing out the contours of the other boy’s mouth, and Gon takes a weird whining breath through his nose and Killua can’t pay  _attention_. His hands and mouth and skin are all burning with too much sensation, he is barely remembering to breathe every minute or so, and when Gon’s hand slides his shirt up to press against his lower back his throat spasms around a sound that feels like a moan but comes out sounding like a sob.

Gon pulls back and Killua tries to follow him to maintain the connection of their mouths, but as soon as he loses the flood of sensation from his lips the rest of his skin comes to the forefront, and suddenly the pressure of Gon’s knee against his thigh and the tentative pull of fingers against his spine are the most intense sensations he’s ever experienced, nearly painful with how sharply he feels them in his head, and his fingers close so tight on Gon’s shoulder that the other boy flinches.

“Hey,” he says, “Killua,” and Killua blinks and tries to focus on Gon’s face, so close to his that he can only see individual features instead of the familiar whole. There are flecks of darker bronze in the gold of Gon’s eyes, Killua thinks wildly, and his lips are red now, there’s moisture against his cheek where Killua must have kissed him, and Killua thinks of the taste of salt and his mouth  _waters_. He leans in, licks hard against the smooth flat line of Gon’s chin, and whatever Gon was starting to say is lost in the way the other boy shivers and giggles.

“That  _tickles,_ ” he says, but Killua can’t pull away, can’t stop  _tasting_  Gon. He comes sideways, up under Gon’s ear, sets his mouth there and gulps air that tastes like Gon and feels the other boy’s heartbeat under his tongue and makes himself  _listen_.

“Calm down, Killua,” Gon is saying, his fingers smoothing up over Killua’s back, and it’s supposed to be soothing but it makes Killua shudder and arch at the contact, trying to press in closer to the other boy’s frame so close to his. This is why he was afraid to touch Gon, he realizes at a great distance from the panting  _want_  in his body, because once  _started_  he can’t  _stop_ , he needs  _more_ and  _more_  and  _more_ , and Gon is giggling against his shoulder and Killua is almost crying, he can feel the desperation and the pleasure indistinguishable and burning hot just behind his eyes.

“ _Gon_ ,” he says, and he sounds broken even to himself, his voice grating raw and bloody in his throat. Gon’s hand leaves his back and comes up to twine into Killua’s hair, and Gon hums back in his throat so Killua can feel the vibration through the other boy’s chest and neck, and the anxious desperation in him goes silent like it’s been hypnotized into passivity.

“It’s okay,” Gon is saying, his voice calm and even and soothing, and Killua shifts his grip so he’s making a fist around Gon’s shirt instead of Gon’s shoulder, and Gon twists in towards him so their legs slot together, and Killua’s breath vanishes but his wild frenzy is gone too. When Gon pushes gently Killua goes back over onto his back, and when Gon leans in over him Killua doesn’t fling himself forward at the other boy, and when Gon’s mouth presses against his Killua shuts his eyes, and his blood simmers instead of flash-boiling to steam.

Gon pulls back just barely and laughs against Killua’s mouth. “See, it’s okay,” he says, and his fingers lift free from white hair and come back down to the hem of Killua’s shirt. The fabric is all twisted up around Killua’s chest, and when Gon’s fingers brush carefully over his stomach Killua can feel his body jerk in response, half-flinching away from the contact even as responsive blood rises to the surface. When Gon doesn’t say anything else Killua opens his eyes, and Gon is looking down at the exposed skin of his stomach, eyes wide and fascinated, and Killua would be blushing except his face is already as hot as it can get, blood rippling under his skin in waves of heat.

“I can see you shiver,” Gon says, voice low and awed, and Killua groans and his hips come up off the mattress towards Gon’s moving fingers. Gon draws back for a moment but then he’s back before Killua has time to do more than suck in a sharp panicked inhale, and now his palm is flat on Killua’s skin, his wrist is just against Killua’s shorts, and when Killua rocks up he bumps against Gon’s arm and the sensation bursts like fireworks into his brain so the air leaves his lungs in an explosion of an exhale.

“Killua,” Gon says, sliding his hand sideways across skin, and Killua never before realized how  _sensitive_  his stomach is. “Does this feel good?” Killua kind of wants to laugh at the total foolishness of the question, but the bark of amusement turns into a sob in his throat, and when he shuts his eyes tears trace a path from his eyelashes down to his hairline. Gon sits up, pulls away from his hold, and Killua follows, pushing up onto an elbow so he can reach for the other boy’s shoulder again. But Gon is shifting his weight back so he’s kneeling on the bed, and grabbing at the waist of Killua’s shorts with both hands so he can tug them down past the other boy’s hips. Killua arches up off the bed, balancing his weight on his feet and his elbow for a minute, and doesn’t think to be self-conscious until Gon has his shorts half-off and he drops back down to the mattress. Then it hits him all at once, the fact that he’s hard and Gon’s  _looking_ at him and he’s half-undressed, and he blushes so hard that he can feel the burn in his cheekbones even past the rush of confused blood under his skin.

Gon looks up at his face, and if there were any embarrassment in the other boy’s expression Killua would cringe back and away and never be able to face him again. But Gon’s eyes are bright and clear, and he’s smiling just like he did the first time they met, and when he sees Killua’s face he laughs and leans in to bump their foreheads together while his fingers settle with unreasonable casualness on Killua’s bare hip.

“Why’re you blushing?” he asks, and that just makes it worse, Killua thinks his face might be about to burst into flames, and he doesn’t have an answer even when Gon waits for one. The best he can manage is to slide one arm up under and one over Gon’s waist so he can pull the other boy into a hug, bury his face in that familiar green shirt and hide his flush for a moment.

Gon laughs over the top of his head and his hand comes down Killua’s hip so his fingers brush over the other boy’s length. Killua jerks involuntarily and whines, but it comes out a lot lower and darker than he intended, and Gon exhales just at the edge of a moan himself, and Killua suddenly realizes that he can feel Gon hard against his stomach  _too_ , and the wave of prickling fire that that sends over his skin eclipses even his embarrassment. He kisses Gon’s shirt, too desperate to bother tracking down the other boy’s mouth or even skin, and then reaches up to wrap his arm around Gon’s neck so he can pull himself up or Gon down and get back to the wet of Gon’s mouth and the feathery softness of his eyelashes and the sharp-edge shift of bone under tight-drawn skin. Gon purrs far back in his throat when Killua slides his tongue over the angle of his shoulder, and Killua shudders even before Gon shifts his hand over him.

Killua’s not entirely sure where his limbs are, exactly; his feets are tangled up in his half-removed clothes and Gon’s leg is slotted between his, effectively pinning him in place. One arm is caught around Gon’s neck and making a fist around his hair, and the other is  _everywhere_ , under the hem of green shirt or pressing hard into the back of Gon’s knee or scraping fingernails against bare skin wherever he can find it. His mouth is full of salt and skin and Gon; Killua’s not sure after a few minutes if he’s licking Gon’s neck or sucking on his lip or panting against his arm and it doesn’t really matter, any more than it matters that Gon’s fingers are moving all out of Killua’s expectations from his own self-set rhythms. It hurts and then it doesn’t, is too much and then not enough, and it’s all flooding over him and swamping the voices in his brain and the murmur of logic that has always been there, and there is just  _more more more_  seething through his thoughts until his hips and hands and mouth are all shifting in time to the heartbeat under his skin.

“Killua,” Gon says again, the sound drawing heavy like syrup on his tongue, and Killua takes an inhale and everything in his body goes tight, nerves stretching taut with anticipation and his feet kicking uselessly at the sheets to push  _up_ ,  _farther_ ,  _more_. Then there’s a movement, Killua gaining purchase on something or Gon’s hand shifting an inch, and the tension breaks, Killua breathes out hard against skin, and his whole body trembles as the wave of pleasure crashes down onto him.

Reality filters back in in pieces, so Killua first realizes his fingers are curled tight around the waistband of Gon’s shorts, then that his mouth is open and his tongue is stalled on the pulse in Gon’s neck, and then the rest of him comes back, Gon’s fingers against sticky skin and cloth together, and he doesn’t pull away even as his face goes hot with belated embarrassment.

“Killua,” Gon says against his hair. “Will you touch me too?”

Killua goes redder in spite of his instincts, which say that he  _can’t_  possibly blush harder than he already is, and it takes a moment for the frozen panic of self-consciousness to abate enough for him to release his white-knuckle grip against Gon’s shorts. There’s another moment of hesitation when he lifts his hand and fits it between their bodies, like standing on the precipice of a cliff and looking down at the ground below; but then Gon inhales audibly, air dragging high in his throat, and Killua presses his hand hard against the front of the other boy’s shorts before he can think about it anymore.

Gon laughs in delight rather than amusement and rocks his hips forward into Killua’s touch. Killua sucks in air in surprise and Gon’s shoulder hits his mouth so his teeth catch and nearly tear through the other boy’s skin. He drags his hand up, wrist grinding against Gon’s still-unmoving arm, and pushes hard against Gon’s stomach so he can work his fingers down the front of the other boy’s shorts to get to the hot hard skin underneath the fabric.

Gon sighs at the contact, rocks up gentle against Killua’s fingers, and Killua is the one breathing hard now, that doesn’t seem fair at all but he can’t even out his breath when Gon’s fingers are still lingering forgotten on his skin and Gon’s mouth is still wet with the damp from his own lips. Killua shifts, pulls back from Gon’s touch just long enough to pull hard at the edge of the other boy’s shorts, and Gon takes the hint, says “Oh!” and reaches up to help push from the other side until he can kick the clothing free entirely. Killua’s still tangled up in his own clothes; after a moment he shifts back, pulls away from Gon’s ankle between his knees so he can pull his shorts mostly back up and regain the use of his legs. He struggles down as soon as he can move somewhat reasonably, moving away from Gon’s mouth but down to the flat pull of muscle along his stomach, and Killua’s mouth presses hot against the skin and the bottom edge of green shirt together, his arm bent up between them so he can trail his fingers down against the hard shape of Gon’s erection against his skin. Gon inhales at the drag of friction, half-rocks up and half-turns so he’s on his side, and Killua pushes him back down flat on his back and  _licks_  down the line of his stomach until his chin bumps the head of Gon’s length. Gon groans and his fingers brush through Killua’s hair, and Killua’s head is swimming like he’s not breathing enough. That’s ridiculous, though, he’s panting he’s breathing so hard, but the haze in his thoughts is wiping out the hesitation he had before Gon started making those  _noises_ , and he wants to  _taste_  so he lifts his head and slicks his tongue all up along the hard skin in a wet path.

Gon  _groans_  so Killua wishes he had seen the other boy’s face, and when he speaks his voice is breaking apart into tiny panting breaths. “Killua, that -- felt  _amazing_  -- do it again.” Killua’s tongue is burning with bitter and salt and he is already coming back in, wrapping his fingers carefully around Gon and tracing out the gaps between his fingers with his tongue. Gon shivers every time Killua’s tongue touches him, like he’s getting tiny electrical shocks from the contact, and when Killua drags his hand up the other boy’s hips come up off the bed and he moans “ _Killua_.” Killua whimpers and tangles his fingers and lips and tongue all around Gon, salt and skin and unfamiliar texture and flavor burning over his tongue and in his blood, and he thinks he might be as lost to their surroundings as Gon is. Gon’s fingers are in his hair and against his shoulder, and Gon keeps arching up and half-laughing and half-moaning, and everything that is Killua is unravelling into just an extension of Gon, like he exists only to taste and touch and feel and experience.

Gon doesn’t go tense like Killua does, though his fingers spasm tight against shirt and hair, and then he jerks and moans and spurts sticky liquid against Killua’s lips and fingers. That tastes salty too, and it’s thick enough that it lingers against Killua’s tongue and the back of his mouth, and the flavor isn’t  _pleasant_  in itself but it’s  _Gon_  and the thought of having Gon against his lips and mouth and tongue is enough for Killua to lick the other boy’s stomach clean before his retroactive blush has time to kick in.

Gon wiggles down to join him at the bottom of the bed while his face is still flushing, wraps his hands around Killua’s face and presses his mouth against hot cheekbones before Killua can react, either to pull away or lean in. Gon’s eyes are sparkling gold and bronze and copper, and when he comes in to kiss Killua’s mouth Killua’s hands close against the front of his shirt into involuntary fists to pull him closer.

“You taste weird,” Gon observes as he pulls away. “Is that what I taste like? Do you like it?”

“Uh.” Killua hesitates, not sure if it’s worth trying to explain his thinking, but Gon barrels on over him without much of a pause. “Do  _you_  taste like that?”

“I -- I don’t know.” Killua is blushing but Gon is smiling, and he starts smiling too in spite of his flush. “How would I know that, idiot?”

“Can I try next time and find out?” Gon asks.

Killua freezes, eyes wide and staring, as his brain echoes back  _next time_  slow and satisfied. “Yes,” he says, and he comes in to kiss Gon again even as the other is crowing in anticipatory delight. He hasn’t ever been able to refuse Gon anything, after all.


End file.
